


Three Forty Two

by staircasetothesea



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blow Jobs, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Human Castiel, M/M, PWP, just general smooshiness in bed, kinda somnophilia but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-05
Updated: 2014-03-05
Packaged: 2018-01-14 15:58:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1272502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/staircasetothesea/pseuds/staircasetothesea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being human is hard, but Cas is doing his best.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Forty Two

There’s an unsteady stillness in the dark. Cas’ body flexes awkwardly under the weight of the silence.

His body feels heavy, squirming in the night. His hands are on his own body everywhere, but nowhere, and it’s not even close to enough. Gently, moving slowly and steadily, mind you, as not to wake the sleeping form next to him.

His body has been a revelation since becoming human all those weeks ago - his senses assaulted at every turn by new and fascinating experiences, each one further adding to his wonder and ever widening appreciation of the human condition. Even the things that had frightened him at first turned out to be awe inspiring and educational – his first time swimming in the open ocean as a human had been daunting, but the feeling of Dean holding him tight to his chest in the rolling waters as they silently watched the electrical storm unfurl across the sky as was something Cas would never forget.

He also now understood only too well the very human feeling of being overwhelmed by his emotions and needs. The feelings he’d had for Dean before, whilst strong and demanding, had been relatively easily tempered by a concentrated application of grace and will. Cas had been content to wait for Dean. Cas knew what he wanted, what they _both_ wanted – Dean’s own feelings shone from his soul like a beacon, despite his valiant but mostly clumsy attempts to stifle them. But Cas could wait. He was an angel, after all. He’d been waiting since the beginning of time.

When he’d fallen, though, everything had changed. The first weeks had been almost impossible. Without the buffer of his grace to moderate his love for Dean, Cas had understood true longing for the first time ever. He _needed_. And he knew time was no longer on his side. He'd forced the issue, fuck the consequences. And then, 17 long days after Cas had laid his cards on the table then left, Dean had called. It'd been the happiest day of Cas' long life.

He huffs loudly in the dark, hoping to break the stillness. The figure next to him remains motionless, oblivious to the outside would. Cas sighs loudly. He knows it’s wrong. He wants to just let it go. But he can’t. He just can’t.

“..Dean..” he moans. Low, desperate, under the cover of the darkness. His body struggles impulsively against the bedclothes. If there’s no response, he can pretend it never was. That it was never the plan. Plausible deniability.

His straining ears are met with a lazy silence, except for the steady intake and expulsion of air from the body laying heavily next to him. He huffs in a low protest. This isn’t the way it’s meant to be.

Cas writhes impatiently. He really should stop. He _knows_ he should just stop. Take himself to another room in the bunker and finish himself the fuck off. It’s not like he doesn’t know how. He’s been human for long enough now to almost be considered a fucking expert at these matters.

But it’s not the same. It’s just not the fucking same.

He turns heavily to his left side, harrumphing loudly as he manoeuvres his body heavily into the new position. His left hand still firmly grasped within his boxers, eyeing the sleeping form of his bedfellow in the wan green light of the clock radio. He sneaks his right hand quietly, steadily over the sleeping form next to him – the muscles of the other man’s body lax and pliant under his fingertips as he reaches Dean’s navel. Dean shifts under the touch, his muscles in his belly rolling lightly against Cas’ hand.

Cas’ fingers fiddle impatiently with the trail of hair beneath Dean’s navel, twisting, grasping lightly. He slowly ventures lower, searching for encouragement. He is pleased to find Dean is slowly hardening in his now restless sleep, warm and twitching in his soft grasp.

“..Deannn..” he implores insistently. He can’t wait much longer.

The sleeping figure next to him groans, shifting, the lithe body flexing under his fingertips.

“..Dean?”

“Mmmhph?”

Cas bristled with excitement. Dean was awake. This was good. This was… excellent. He gently twisted his hand up and down Dean’s swelling cock, earning a soft moan from the hunter. His left hand grasped his own cock slightly harder than before, squeezing gently against the sudden new swell of blood in his flesh.

“Erghhh that feels… Jesus fucking Christ Cas, what fucking time is it?”

Cas thrusts gently into his own hand at the sound of Dean’s sleep addled voice, the movement buffeting against Dean’s warm side. Dean rolls his hips ever so slightly at the friction as Cas buries his face in the sleep warm skin of his neck. He mouths hotly at the pulse point, feeling the steady increase of Dean’s heartbeat under his tongue. Dean moans at the familiar sensation.

“It’s 3.42 AM, Dean. Approximately 3 hours before you need to awaken” comes the low reply. It’s punctuated by another hot gasp and sinuous roll of Cas’ pelvis into his clutching hand, reverberating against Dean’s side.

Cas doesn’t wait for a reply. He hoists himself unceremoniously up and over Dean’s thigh, squirming down the bed between Dean’s legs and settling with his own body mostly off the end of the mattress.

“..Cassss…” comes the hissing reply, the shift of cool air across Dean’s lower body rousing a response.

Cas nuzzles at Dean’s hip, wet and insistent. “Sleep.” Dean doesn’t reply, but for a toss of his head on the warm pillow.

Cas laps at Dean’s hipbone again, soft but insistent. He doesn’t wish to disturb Dean more than is absolutely necessary. His lips trail towards Dean’s groin, hot and eager. He mouths briefly at the coarse hair, before swallowing Dean in one smooth motion.

There’s a jolt. “Oh fuckkk” comes the sound, from somewhere way away. Cas feels himself grinning. He still can’t get over the fact that he, Castiel, can inspire such a response from the great Dean Winchester. He doesn’t think he ever will.

Cas flattens his tongue around the base of Dean’s cock, keeping it splayed as he slides slowly and insistently up the shaft. The taste of Dean is amazing. As an angel he’d been concerned, ambivalent to the longing feelings nestled in his chest, counterpointed with the sheer humanity of the sweat and smell and overwhelming feel of his charge. Now, though, he couldn’t imagine it any other way.

He feels Dean’s hand card gently through his hair as the hunter thrusts lightly beneath him. The covers are flung back abruptly, and he feels a warm breeze on the top of his head as Dean exhales sharply. Cas doesn’t need to raise his head to imagine the scene – Dean propped up with one arm crooked behind his head, watching the proceedings in the low green light.

He begins in earnest now, hollowing his cheeks as he moves swiftly back and forth on Dean’s cock. The uneven movements and noises from above are quickening – Cas knows he doesn’t have long to make this good. He worms a hand between his chest and the mattress, lightly cupping Dean’s balls before rolling them gently between his thumb and palm. He thrusts his own cock into the smooth friction of the warm sheets below his groin – his release will come soon enough though. For now, he’s just focussed on Dean’s pleasure.

Dean jerks up against Cas’ mouth. He feels the hunter attempt to stifle his movement at the last second, but it still jolts Cas’ jaw. “Oh fuck Cas, fuck, just like tha…ohhh Jesus fuckkkkk…” come the cry as Cas feels the balls in his hand tighten, raise, and suddenly he’s tasting it all. The feeling jolts straight to Cas’ groin as he concentrates on taking it all, slow gentle pressure on Dean as he releases long and low in his mouth. The feeling is sublime. He’ll never, ever get used to feeling this _wanted_ , this _needed_. He swallows everything Dean has to offer, lapping at him slowly until the ache in his own body becomes too much.

He rises quickly, clambering over Dean’s lax body to straddle his hips. He can see Dean’s sex-fucked face in the dim lighting, Dean’s eyes hooded as he struggles to focus on the form above him. Cas is feeling crazed, wanton. He grasps himself once more, arching his back at the feeling of his own hand, head flung back with the feeling.

Dean is wrung out, limp, wholly sated. His eyes drift to the vision before him. Through half lidded eyes he surveys the scene - his dick twitching at the sight of Cas bowed backward across his body, one hand desperately pinching at his own nipple, other clamped firmly on his flushed cock , and wishes ruefully he was a much younger man.

Cas feels Dean’s hands on his thighs, slowly stroking up and down the muscles, fingers moving through the coarse hairs. He hears Dean’s voice reaching him from what seems like a great distance.

“..Come for me Cas… Please… Come for me… I wanna see it…”

That’s all he needed to hear. Cas comes long and hard, hot white stripes painting across the flesh of Dean’s smooth chest and Castiel’s slowing hand. Dean moans loudly in appreciation, whilst Cas moans even louder in sheer fucking relief.

It’s all he can do to avert his head from smashing into Dean’s as he falls forward, smearing his release across both their chests. Dean chuckles lowly and raises his arms to cradle the prone figure, one around Cas’ waist, the other gently playing with the slightly curling hair at the nape of his neck.

“Hmmm you need a haircut” Dean remarks, tugging at the curling locks.

There’s no response, the only noise being the slowing panting from the former angel.

Dean tugs at the sweaty curls harder. “ Cas. Haircut” he demands.

“..mmmmm…tomorrow” comes the tired reply. “Take me?”

“Anything for you, angel.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'd love some feedback. Only my second fic (that I've left up - eek)
> 
> Also, this is quite possibly a case of "write what you know". Hope it works.


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